A Step Out of Synch
by myeloplax
Summary: Future AU. Reincarnation doesn't always work out neatly. Sometimes, even when souls are lucky enough to share another lifetime, they can be separated by decades. Despite this, Mikasa and Eren still manage to find comfort in each other's company. Written for the SnK Kink Meme.
1. Found Again

So I found a prompt on the SnK Kink Meme (surprise, surprise) that made me think. The prompt basically was talking about various ways reincarnation doesn't work out for characters, and one example they listed really stuck with me (especially it was Eren and Mikasa related): what if they had reincarnated, but several decades apart? So, here's my take on it.

This whole first chapter is pretty much Mikasa's POV.

* * *

Her mother had always told her – back when she was a small child living on her parents' farm - that every time people meet, they leave an imprint on each other's lives; and when people hold great importance to one another, their lives become intertwined indefinitely. She had described it as a grand, cosmic waltz in which they were all dancers.

Most people they meet merely brush shoulders before gliding away, some hold hands and stay for a refrain, while others linger for passionate embraces. But the waltz was never perfect. Sometimes even the best of partners would be a beat or even a whole measure ahead, always one step out of synch, but the closeness felt in their hearts is what mattered.

Once in a long while, the dancers would be able to hold each other close for the entirety of a song and that would make everything worthwhile. She remembered her mother saying that partners held near and dear to her heart would always come back - if only for the last few notes of a song.

She only half-believed the idea when she was young; the notion of meeting people in different lifetimes was an interesting, though utterly an alien one. Not to mention that the frivolous metaphor was lost on a mind that valued blunt, straightforward thinking. That was before ashen hair had replaced silky raven locks and the calm understanding of experience had yet to soften the edges of her indomitable personality. Time had shaped her into a gentler, more understanding woman over the course of her quiet life.

Over the decades, she had met people that gave her the instant spark of connection and recognition that her mother described; lingering memories of past lives that clung to her new one. The chef with the excitable, puppydog eyes and her overwhelming zeal for food; the short janitor with a haughty attitude and the ability to find any stain in a twenty meter radius; the blonde schoolboy with kind blue eyes and dreams of traveling the world.

Ordinary people that somehow managed to embed themselves in her mind, as if by some intangible string that fastened them together. Slowly, she became convinced that there were indeed lives that were tightly interwoven with her own, even if they had graced her current lifetime briefly.

Never had she felt more certain than with the small boy that sat upon her knee.

* * *

He had approached her first. It was about a week after he had moved in with his father across the street. As per usual, she was hunched over her prized tea roses in her careful ritual of afternoon pruning when she became aware of eyes watching her every move. Ordinarily, she'd ignore it and keep cutting off dead blossoms, but the presence felt oddly familiar.

When she looked up from her work, she found a scruffy kindergartner - scraped knees and a schoolbag hung carelessly over his shoulder – standing on her manicured lawn. He was staring at her with intense teal eyes, and when their gazes met, she felt a small shudder of something resonating between them.

After a brief moment of stillness between the two, she had gone back to tending to her flowers. He didn't move. Instead, he stood there, taking the fact that she hadn't shooed him off her lawn as an invitation to stay. He stood in silence, simply watching, as she finished watering her flowerbeds and stood with creaking bones and popping joints. His eyes never left her once.

It wasn't until she started walking back towards her porch that he spoke.

"What's that flower called?" he asked, pointing to a low shrub with pink blossoms.

"Those are azaleas."

"And what are these?"

"Dahlias."

"What's that thing you're holding?"

"Pruning shears."

"What's that red thing you're wearing around your neck?"

"A shawl. It keeps me warm."

"Oh," he said, sounding rather disinterested despite the questions. He stiffened slightly as he remembered his father telling him about manners. Smiling, he offered his small hand for a handshake, colorful bandages covering most of his scuffed palm.

"My name's Eren."

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Eren to get comfortable with her. After their initial meeting, he would visit her every day after school and watch her tend the garden, always asking questions until his father came home from work and called him in for supper. She eventually grew tired of answering and let him help her, busy hands keeping his mind and mouth occupied. Every so often, she would bake a batch of cookies in advance to thank him for his help.

Eren's visits soon became another ritual in her life. She would sit in her rocking chair, lost in quiet contemplation, until 2:47 precisely he would come bounding around the corner and make a beeline for her house. They would garden for an hour or so before she brought him inside for snacks. He had wrinkled his nose at the smell of smoky incense and her favorite bitter tea the first time, but he soon got used to it.

It became apparent that Eren had no friends, especially when he would spend the entire weekend following her around the house. When she asked why he didn't want to go out and play with children his age instead of sitting with her, he would get oddly quiet. Sometimes he said it was boring. Other times he would give her a cold look and call them pigs in human skin.

It was always unnerving to hear that from such an innocent looking boy, but she suspected that bullies were involved. She was always quick to remind him that those were only a few people and there were always those with pure hearts like his own. He just had to learn to be friendlier and he would find them.

He didn't have much of a family to go home to, either. From what she gathered, his mother had died some years back. He was not quite old enough to grasp the concept of death, and could only tell her what others had told him: that mommy was gone on a long trip far away overseas and she wouldn't be coming back.

His father was always out at work, only coming home to make Eren dinner and sleep. For the most part, Eren took care of himself. It was no wonder the boy had an independent streak at his tender age.

With very little family to speak of, it wasn't surprising that he quickly adopted her as his own. It hadn't taken him long to go from the initial nickname of "scarf lady" to the more endearing "granny".

* * *

Eren was currently absorbed in his drawing, crayons scribbling furiously against the paper and sandwich temporarily forgotten. He sat balanced on her knee, not quite tall enough to reach the tabletop on his own. Small feet swung against her leg in a slow rhythm as she absentmindedly smoothed the cowlicks in his dark hair.

"What are you drawing, Eren?"

"Me!" he grinned, shifting to show her his work, "I'm fighting a bad guy with my superpowers, just like The Hulk!"

There were two large, muscular beings standing in the middle of what appeared to be a city. The taller one was colored a meaty red and looked like it was about to kick a skyscraper down. Something about it made it feel like being of pure evil, despite its simplicity. Next to it was a smaller one with angry eyebrows, green eyes, and dark, shaggy hair. It had a rather wide mouth opened in a roar, and for a second she wondered which one was supposed to be the bad guy.

"That's me," he pointed to the small one, "I'm gonna beat up that giant before he can smash that building!"

She let out a small chuckle, "And why are you naked?"

"Well, my clothes don't grow with me, granny," he looked at her like it was obvious.

She looked back over at his snack, still half-eaten, and dragged the plate closer.

"You're not going to grow at all if you don't eat up," she admonished, "You didn't even drink your milk."

"I don't like milk."

"How are you going to fight giants if you don't grow big and strong?"

He huffed, folding his arms and glaring at her, furrowed brow looking just like the doodle of himself.

"Stop fussing over me, granny! I'm not some little kid! I'm a big boy!"

She smirked at the irony of the statement, earning another stink eye from Eren. He squirmed to face away from her again as he grumpily took a gulp of milk.

As much as she knew he hated it, she couldn't help but follow a strong motherly instinct. Something deep within her urged her to be ever-attentive to his wellbeing, like something would happen to him if she were to take her eyes off him for even an instant. Perhaps it was because she had never been graced with children of her own that he was the outlet for all of her worrying and nurturing. Perhaps.

But she knew he wouldn't be her little Eren forever. He was destined to become a fine young man. She saw it in the strength and conviction in his tiny hands, the fierce sense of duty and protection in his eyes, and the uplifting joy of his wide grin. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be great someday.

She resumed grooming his tussled hair, ghost of a smile on her lips. He would make some lucky girl the happiest woman in the world. She just hoped that, whoever it was, they would make him just as happy. Had she been his age, she would have stuck by his side and never let him go, no matter what mischief he got up to.

Eren finished the last of sandwich with a satisfied sigh, now sleepy with the weight of food in his stomach. He shifted in her lap, finding a comfortable spot before burying his cheek against her bosom. She wrapped her warm shawl around the both of them, cradling him in her arms until he fell asleep.

For a few hours she sat in introspective silence, lost in her own thoughts and not daring to move lest she wake the dreamer nestled in red fabric. It was getting dark by the time his father picked him up, already used to his son's usual stay with her.

She carried him to the door, years of hard labor keeping her arms strong despite her age, and gingerly kissed him on the forehead before handing him off to his father. His eyes briefly fluttered open, revealing a sliver of teal through lidded hoods.

"G'bye, granny. I love you." he mumbled before drifting back into dreamland.

* * *

Honestly, I could have done better. Too bad school's back in session and I'm just too damn tired to put my all into writing.

Next chapter is going to be centered on Eren's POV.


	2. Growing Up

So I was originally planning on this being only two chapters (I've already written the last one out, and let me warn you now: you're going to hate me.) but seeing as this has actually gotten some positive remarks I decided to stretch it out a little.

Done in Eren's POV. I tried to make it seem like it came from the eyes of a child, but I'm not quite sure I pulled it off right. As always, heavy criticism is greatly appreciated. It doesn't all have to be good reviews to keep me going. Hint, hint, nudge, nudge, help me improve.

* * *

Worn-out sneakers pattered against the concrete, following his usual path home with increased vigor. He was excited - more excited than usual at least – because he had big news for Granny. She would be so happy when he told her.

His lungs were burning, legs aching from sprinting half a mile straight from his school, and his heart thundered in his chest, but his buzz of pure exhilaration drove him onward. Not even tripping on the curb of Rose Way could slow his pace; in fact, it only made him more desperate to make up for lost time. One more block, then he'd be home. He vowed to only slow his pace when he reached her garden.

There it was: Maria Drive. He grabbed at the signpost, using it as leverage to swing around onto his street instead of slowing down. Ignoring a slight dizziness from the sharp turn, he kept running. He could make out her figure four houses down, sitting on her rocking chair with her hands calmly folded in her lap. Better not keep her waiting.

Muscles protested as he used the last reserves of his energy to race towards her; her eyes widened in surprise at his arrival. He slowed down – barely - when he reached the stone walkway of her garden, allowing his momentum to carry him up the porch steps towards warm arms.

A slight heave escaped her lips as he crashed into her, hugging her tightly around her waist. Face pressed into the folds of her shawl, he allowed himself to finally catch his breath.

"E-Eren. You're early," he felt her voice vibrate through her body, "Why were you running so fast? You could have fallen down."

He was too winded to reply, chest wildly heaving and lungs still desperately sucking in oxygen through the fabric.

"Eren? Did something happen?" her voice held sharp tones of alarm, but he was too busy recovering to tell Granny to stop worrying about him so much. Just a few more seconds and he would be able to reply; if only his body would get itself together.

"I made a friend," he barely managed to wheeze out.

"What was that? You're talking into my clothes again."

Willing his head to rise, he met her inky black eyes with an ear-to-ear grin on his face.

"I made a friend!"

Boy, was Granny surprised at that. He could feel her stiffen in shock and watched in glee as her eyes widened even more. Wrinkles shifted as her rare beam lit up her wizened face; he liked it when she smiled like that. It made all that running worth it just to see it.

"That's wonderful, Eren! Tell me all about him!" her eyes twinkled with delight. He knew she'd be happy that he listened to her, for once.

"Her, Granny. Her name's Artemis Ar... Aler… Um- Artl…" he struggled before giving up, "I can't pronounce it. But she's real nice, Granny! And super-duper smart!"

"And how did you meet Artemis?"

"Teacher made us partners for the museum trip. At first I didn't like her because she kept smiling at me funny and trying to talk about the weather, but then she told me all about the dinosaurs there," he continued to babble enthusiastically as she led him into the kitchen for snack time.

He hopped up onto the oaken chair, settling on the two cushions placed there to give him enough height to reach the tabletop properly after he insisted he was a big boy who didn't need to sit on Granny's lap.

"She knows so much 'cause she reads all the time since her dad writes stories and she gets to read them. Plus, her dad has all kinds of stories from traveling all over the world and reading to kids! He picked her up after and guess what?"

"What?" she asked, spreading a thin layer of mayonnaise on a slice of wheat bread.

"He has the dorkiest bowl cut!" he snorted in laughter and beat his fist on the table.

"Eren," the scrape of the knife cut short as she gave him an admonishing look, "It's rude to hit furniture. And what did I tell you about making fun of people? This is why you get into fights."

"Okay, okay, fine," another look was shot his way and he cringed slightly under her glare, "I'm sorry, Granny. But it's funny because he looks just like her, 'cept for the hair.

"Her dad's nice, though. I made sure to introduce myself, just like you and daddy told me, and he said I could call him Mr. Armin since his last name is so hard to say. I really like him. He tells the best stories."

"Armin?" her voice got quiet for some reason as she looked him dead in the eye, "Is your friend's last name Arlert?"

"Yeah! How'd you know that, Granny? Do you know her?"

"No, but I met her father once when he was still in high school several years ago," there was a small curl of a nostalgic smile on her lips as she finished putting his sandwich together, "He was such a sweet boy, even back then. I'm glad to hear he's fulfilled his dream of seeing the world. Even got himself a nice little family."

"Well, I'll say hi to him for you when I go to see Artemis!" he wriggled happily as a turkey sandwich and – ugh - a glass of milk were placed in front of him.

She poured a cup of tea as he greedily bit into his snack, wiping off a smear of mustard from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.

"I'm sure you two will have lots of fun together. I know I did back when I was your age. We had all sorts of adventures," Granny stopped smiling, cup halted halfway to her mouth, as if she had realized something, "So you're going to see her after school tomorrow?"

He paused; the idea had never occurred to him. Visits to Granny's house were a given, so he didn't even consider doing anything else after school. Their time together was too important.

"Of course not, Granny! Artemis has Girl Scouts after school, so I only talk to her before class and at recess. I'm going to her house this weekend to study, but I'll be back in time to help you water the flowers," he dusted crumbs off his hand before extending it across the table, pinky outstretched.

"I'll always be right here to see you every day, pinky promise!"

Her knobby finger wrapped around his - old skin meeting new in a firm pact. He relaxed when her smile came back. He didn't want to admit it, but the thought of leaving Granny all alone, even for an afternoon, made him uneasy. He knew what being home alone all day was like before he met her, and he didn't want either of them to go back to that.

She closed her eyes and let out a soft mix of a hum and a sigh, covering their joined hands with her free one.

"Already making friends. You're growing up so fast," her dark eyes opened slowly as she gave him a gentle smile, "But you'll always be my little Eren, right?"

He huffed at her calling him "little" again, but he held her hand tighter nonetheless.

"Always, Granny."

* * *

I'm always reluctant to name character's kids because I've seen way too many fics where they name them something stupid or out of character, but there's something about Armin's bookishness that really makes me think he'd name his daughter after a mythological or historical figure. I was thinking Athena at first, since he'd probably want his kid to be named after a goddess with serious brainpower, but Artemis just sounded like a more natural name. I didn't have any particular character in mind for Artemis's mother; since everyone's reincarnations are spread out, it's doubtful to me that Armin would find another character to marry.

Next chapter is Mikasa's POV again. Get ready for some boogers, a one-inch boy, and soup!


End file.
